Poetry Challenge #5 - "I'm peeved..."

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Fluffy

The Demon King ~ He/They
Original poster
STAFF MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
It varies. I can't promise much consistency due to my chaotic life.
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Nonbinary
  4. Transgender
  5. Primarily Prefer Male
Genres
Horror, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Superpowers, Drama. Also, romance is required with me because I will get bored without it.
First, I want to thank those of you who have been participating in my poetry challenges. <3 The few of you who take the time to submit your fine pieces of work to me are amazing and without you, I'd give up on this thing.

Anyway!

This week's challenge, write a poem about one of your pet peeves, or how you respond to them. Whatever comes to mind, really. Can be a person, something people do, an object... Tell it like it is in the form of poetry.

My poetry muse is taking a nap right now, so I'll contribute my own when something poetic hits me! It's been a rough couple of weeks for teh Fluffy.
 
When the toast burns, I can't stand
The smell that stings my noes
It Fills me up with hate so deep
From my head down to my toes

The bread was perfect, golden brown
Now it's rotted black
I took a hammer to the oven
And hit it til it cracked

Now I have now way to toast
But at least it will not burn
Oh, god I hate that awful smell
It makes my stomach churn

I'd rather walk through hell on fire
Than eat that horrid taste
My life depends on toasted bread
Without it
Its a waste
 
My fist your face,
Meeting with savage grace,
Images in my head.
Irresistible they come unbidden,
The thoughts on my face unhidden,
I wish to see you bleed,
Your posture fuels the savage need,
To hear bone break and breath choke,
In my step I stop and resist,
Knowing will is needed to desist,
Wanting to throw you down,
Like some plush filled clown,
Your crime you ask,
Your face aghast,
Stopping and staring,
Right behind me as I'm sitting.
 
Sitting
waiting
for the noise to down
I sit here at my desk
my artwork, a mess
because
every time I start
So does some sound

It could be my father at work
Talking loudly as he paces outside my room

It could be be my dog,
who's bark is less than his bit
but it's still so loud

It could be neighbors,
or workers they hired,
for a tended lawn
they desire

When this happens
my world begins to shake
The violence in my mind
starts to break
And I will be furious

So I try to ignore
as I sit at my desk and pour
over my artwork

But, oh it doesn't help
when more sounds are added
Two and three
I start to plead
four and five
I let it lie
and go outside

I cannot stand
when I sit there with my hand
poised so stiffly over paper
and noise assaults me
Dammit.
 
In Texas
there's one
thing I miss
There's sun
But no snow
on the time of
Christmas

I long for the
soft white fluff
But all I see
grass n' stuff


FIN
 
Inspiration

For hours on end I search for art,
Something to light my flame.
But even if I find a spark,
The result is always the same.

I look all over the net, far and wide,
And despite how what wonders I see,
Nothing I try comes out quite right,

And my inspiration evades me.
 
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Those who Speak Always

They speak when I am speaking,
when someone else is speaking,
Even when no one is speaking,

Will they stop?
Will they run out of topics?
conversation?

Who are they speaking to?
Me,
You,
Others,
themselves,
no one,

Why do they never stop?
Why do they just keep on?
Is anyone listening?
Does anyone care?

Do they breath?
Sleep,
Have friends,
A life?

If they don't stop,
Can they?
Could you make them?
Me?
Anyone?
Will they one day stop?